


And My Head Told My Heart

by BetsyByron



Series: Collected wee fics [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Post Reichenbach, Return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:55:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetsyByron/pseuds/BetsyByron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, Sherlock just runs back to 221B.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And My Head Told My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I KNOW, I have WIPs u_u - but I don't want to go to bed and this is really, really short.

“You don’t want to warn him first? You’re insane!”

“I need to see him _now.”_

“So you’re just going to knock on the door?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll give him a heart attack!”

“Stop yapping, Lestrade. What if I send a text? He’ll think it’s a cruel joke. I’m going.”

“Sherlock, wait…”

Sherlock was already out the door. He pestered the cabbie the whole way to go faster. Quite suddenly he didn’t know how he had been able to live without John for so long. Of course he knew he was well, and he caught glimpses of him sometimes on Mycroft’s CCTV, but it wasn’t nearly enough anymore. He needed to get back in the game, and he needed his sidekick.

He hesitated for a second, just a second, before he knocked on the door of 221B Baker Street. He knew for a fact Mrs Hudson was out. John would have to come down and open.

He heard the steps on the stairs, and refused to acknowledge that his heart was beating slightly faster than usual.

The door opened, and there he was. He looked tired.

Then his eyes widened, and he looked like he had just been punched in the stomach.

Sherlock had no idea what to say. Humour wasn’t appropriate. Apologies weren’t appropriate. The only thing he could think of was to step forward and hug him – but that didn’t seem appropriate either.

They stood there frozen for what seemed an eternity.

“Sherlock.” John spoke eventually.

Saying the name seemed to unblock something in him, and his legs gave way. He had to lean against the wall, and he held up a hand up so Sherlock wouldn’t come near him, as had been his reflex.

“Oh, fuck.” John was trying to breathe steadily. “Fuck. You sick bastard.”

Sherlock still said nothing, unsure of what to do. He waited until John pulled himself together and up to his feet.

“You’re back.” he said.

“I’m back.” Sherlock repeated.

John nodded.

“Come on in, then.”


End file.
